Cheap Self Storage was in the warehouse district which was not the safest part of town. MacGyver hadn't remembered when he had seen so many tractor trailers. The entrance gate was open, and no one was at the small shed that served as the office. Mac shook his head as he pulled through the gate. He couldn't believe that there was any treasure here.
MacGyver looked up at the sign and made a left towards units 1 through 99. It was a short drive to unit 13. Jack was pacing back and forth with his hands in his pockets in front of lucky number 13.
Mac stepped out of his Jeep to a smiling Jack.
"I knew you would come through for me, my friend! What took you so long?"
"I was ripe from my trip. I needed a shower. But not as bad as I need sleep. Which I am looking forward to getting uninterrupted after I help you get your treasure."
"Hey. No reason to be sarcastic."
MacGyver shook his head. "Let's take a look at this lock."
Mac assesses the padlock and pulls out this trusty Swiss Army Knife. He flips open the nail file, the thinnest blade. MacGyver slides the file into the lock, jiggles it up and down and the padlock pops open. From the look on Jack's face, Mac can see the wheels turning.
"Think of what you could do if you weren't such a law-abiding citizen."
MacGyver gave him a disapproving look as he slipped the knife back into his pocket and unraveled the chain around the door handle.
Together, the two lifted the garage door on the storage unit. Both the friends' faces dropped. Inside the tiny space were at least twenty 5-gallon buckets of used golf balls!
"Golf balls!", exclaimed Jack.
"Golf balls", repeated Mac, not very impressed.
"They look pretty beat up. How many do you think are in here?" Jack asked.
"They're probably used. By the looks of them, I'd guess they were at the bottom of a pond. Each bucket looks to be about 5-gallons. Should be about 300 golf balls in each bucket", MacGyver answered as he picked up one, spun it around in his hand, and tossed it back into the bucket.
"Twenty times 300 is about 6,000. That's a lot of golf balls. They don't look like much now but once we clean and polish them up…"
"We are not cleaning and polishing 6,000 golf balls. I am helping you load these up on the truck and you can clean and polish 6,000 golf balls!"
"Geez! I'm offering you a part of what could be a small fortune and you're turning me down!"
"Well. I guess I can sell them to a pro shop at a golf course. I've got to make back the money I spent on this unit. Wait. Pete plays golf.", Jack schemed.
"You are not selling these golf balls to Pete. They are beat up," Mac picked up a golf ball as evidence.
"Maybe they can use them on the driving range for practice. Heave, ho!", Jack said as he picked up a bucket and put it in the back of the rental truck.
The two men proceeded to load the contents of the storage unit into the back of the rental truck. When they were finished, MacGyver pulled down the door and got into his Jeep.
"Wait! Where are you going?", Jack asked.
"Home. To sleep…undisturbed!"
"Umm. Do you mind if you hold onto these until I can get rid of them? You know I share the hangar and I wouldn't want these beauties to walk."
"What about your place?"
"I'm kind of bunking down in the hangar. I'm between domiciles."
"You mean you got behind in your rent and got evicted? I don't want these dirty golf balls cluttering up my living room."
"You don't have to keep them in your living room. You can put them in your kitchen or your bedroom. Anywhere. It's not like I'm asking to stay with you. Can I stay with you?", Jack paused waiting for an answer.
"I'll meet you back at the houseboat," Mac surrendered.
MacGyver pulled out in his Jeep and Jack followed him with the rental truck.
Neither of them saw the man in the black sedan, who was watching them, pull out behind Jack and follow them back to the marina.